


Revenge

by Wireslide



Series: Fifty Ships [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ezor has too many mouths, Ezor is half light-alien, F/M, Lotor's Husbands, Shiro thinks they're adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 20:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wireslide/pseuds/Wireslide
Summary: Shiro stands at Lotor's right hand to celebrate his rise to power. Ezor has other things in mind than celebrating.





	Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as part of a 50-50 challenge.

Lotor had reassured him every five minutes until they'd made their dramatic entrance that it was entirely acceptable to hold the Coronation party regardless of the civil war tearing its way through the Empire, but Shiro couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. He stayed just over the emperor's left shoulder, eyes sweeping the crowd, with his bayard tucked in a thigh strap that had been a gift from the shy, smiling redhead half-hiding behind Lotor's right arm. He let his mind wander while he kept an eye out for trouble, remembering the arrival of the three very attractive—and very _different—_ men several hours before.

Lotor had been pacing as the small shuttle had docked, and wouldn't tell Shiro why he was so anxious. The doors couldn't open fast enough for the tall, muscular redhead that squeezed through them to run up to Lotor and skid to a stop less then six inches away. Shiro had been ready to fight, bayard already transformed in his palm and right hand lit with the eerie purple glow, but Lotor had crossed the last six inches to bury his nose in the fur dusting the redhead's chest. “We're here now,” the newcomer announced in an incongruously small voice, glancing sideways at Shiro with very blue eyes and giving him a small, nervous smile, “we missed you.” One large hand came up to stroke the silken white-blond hair, claws sliding through it with a barely audible hiss. “We love you.”

“I know, Nolan,” Lotor raised his face, smiling slightly, to accept the nuzzle from the shy giant, “I missed you all, too.” He turned the smile to the other two men who exited the shuttle, one almost as large as Nolan whose crest of yellow fur ran down the back of his neck and disappeared into the collar of his shirt, and a smaller one who looked like he was made of nothing but layered knives and spite, with solid poison green eyes that glowed bighter than the others'. “Joash, Einen,” he held his hand out to the two, who came in to give him nuzzles while he stayed in the circle of Nolan's arm, “this is Shiro, the paladin of the Black Lion.”

Nolan perked up slightly, his smile becoming slightly more direct. “Oh! So you're _Shiro_! I have something for you!” He squirmed free of Lotor's grasp, relieved the other large male of one of the bags he carried, and immediately sat on the metal flooring to dig through it.

Smiling, Lotor offered Shiro his hand, giving him a squeeze as he accepted and allowed himself to be pulled into the group hug. “Shiro, these are my husbands. Nolan—he's very shy but more sweet than anything, Joash—he's Nolan's first husband and an excellent chef, more than worth his atomic count in GAC, and Einen—he would rather stab people than talk to them.” His smile turned especially fond at the sharp-scaled reptilian half-breed, who let out a soft hiss of acknowledgement.

“It's...nice to meet you all,” Shiro managed not to stammer, but his bewilderment only increased when Nolan pressed a piece of crisscrossed leather into his palm. It was beautifully made; he didn't recognize the metal used for the studs, but it seemed to glow faintly in the low light of the hangar. The leather itself held the same scale print and pattern as Einen's skin—a light brush of his thumb against the grain confirmed that the scales were sharp enough to cut—and he gave Nolan a slow blink. “Thank you? I don't--”

“It's a leg holster,” the redhead told him excitedly, “for your bayard. The scales slide off and can be used as throwing knives if you need, too. They're held on magnetically.” He reached forward to demonstrate, beaming when Shiro's eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “Einen gave it from his last shed.”

A quick glance towards Einen brought Shiro's mind back to the present; the metallic reptile was hissing at a servant that had wandered too close with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, and Lotor quieted him by taking the tray and shooing the servant away. He exchanged a faint smile with Nolan when the redhead glanced over at him, then turned his gaze back out over the crowd to the quiet sound of Lotor urging his tiny, angry husband to eat.

Coral pink striped with equally bright colors flashed around a corner in the back, and Shiro excused himself with a light touch to Lotor's shoulder, threading his way through the party-goers with ease—most of them didn't even want to come in contact with him, and made room—managing to follow the pink around the corner just in time to see it turn another. He glanced over his shoulder and hurried, his prey just eluding him quickly enough for him to realize where they were headed; Lotor's room. He broke into a run.

The doors hadn't closed behind the quick little general by the time he got there, and he skidded in with his bayard up and his finger on the trigger of its laser pistol form. “Stop right there, Ezor,” he growled, huffing a little to catch his breath.

The long, striped tail protruding from the back of her head coiled, then split open to reveal several rows of thin, glasslike teeth. Ezor's giggle coming out of that mouth was something that would come back in his darkest moments, he was sure. “Well of course, silly man,” she continued with that nightmare maw, head tilting this way and that, “where else would I go? Out the window and into raw space?” The head-tail closed as she turned to give him a bright, impish smile, blue-green eyes dancing in her coral face. “I guess you're going to, what, arrest me for crashing my own husband's Coronation Celebration?” She held out her hands and gave him a cute pout.

“Oh, nooo, Officer Shiro, I didn't _mean_ to cause _trouble_!” She carried on the pout as she advanced, offering him her wrists as though fully expecting to be manacled. “I just wanted to see--” She stopped, her smile and demeanor evening out when the tip of Shiro's blaster pressed against her nasal slits. “I just wanted to see the boys,” she continued, more quietly and more sincere, “ever since Lotor shot Narti I've been worried about how he'll treat them. Nolan's delicate, you know? One harsh word can send him spiraling into some pretty gnarly self-destructive habits. You probably haven't seen them yet—unless you're even easier than our intel suggests—but he's got some pretty wicked self-harm scars. He's tried to cut out his own heart like, four times that I know of.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, free hand reaching out to pass over the panel to turn on the light. She seemed to shimmer for a moment before solidifying. “Nolan's fine,” he told her carefully, “Lotor's nothing but smiles since they arrived. I, uh. I haven't seen the scars.”

“He was nothing but smiles until Narti turned her back, too.” Ezor's round face scrunched up in a mix of resentment and disgust, which vanished in a flash of another bright smile. “You should see the scars! You should absolutely get Nolan naked, he's like...my second favorite male romp!” She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, and he was caught off-guard enough to regret it.

He landed on the bed hard enough to force the air out of his lungs, vaguely recognizing the sound of his bayard hitting the far wall as Ezor landed on his chest and prevented him from regaining oxygen. She held three of the scales from his holster between her fingers up under his jaw, and dangled the thigh band from the other hand. As he gasped for breath beneath her—and now was not the time to notice how intensely muscled her thighs were, or the tiny flaps of dark yellow skin that connected the backs of her arms and ribs, really not the time to wonder if they were sensitive to the touch, Shiro—she studied the holster intently. “This is Nolan's work,” she said quietly, running a thumb over the inside of the leather, “luxite studs, Einen's shed...do you even know what this is, you stupid man?”

She leaned down, baring her teeth in his face, and he realized that behind the relatively-normal looking teeth she had more of those glass-shard nightmare teeth, inches from his cheek. “This is an announcement that they would accept you as Lotor's next spouse.” She laughed, leaning back and settling the three scales she'd removed back into place before flinging the holster towards where his bayard had landed. It magnetized to the wall with a faint clang. “There is something about you, _Champion_ ,” her grin told him she'd known he would flinch at his old title, “that we Galra just can't seem to say no to. Why is that?”

Her head-tail swung around, the jagged mouth opening and a tongue emerging to lick up the side of his face. “You don't taste terrible, I guess, and you survived having Galra genetics spliced into you in your time with the Druids,” she patted his metal arm fondly, and he realized it hadn't occurred to him to use it against her, “but, from what I heard I guess your body was already used to having Galra genetics poured into it, wasn't it, _Champion_?” The leer she gave him looked only slightly out of place, but he supposed it fit in with the easy way she was slicing through his uniform with claws he would never have guessed were that sharp.

He squinted at her hands again, then shuddered as he realized that her claws _weren't_ that sharp; she was cutting him out of his armor with short beams of light on the tips of her nails. “Are you getting at something or just trying to slut shame me?” He was a little proud of himself for how bored he managed to sound, since he was facing the fact that the most harmless-looking of Lotor's general-wives was likely the most dangerous.

“Oh, Shiro,” she giggled, “I wouldn't try to slut shame _you_. The whole universe knows you're shameless.” She licked his face with that huge, second mouth again, and he tried not to recoil into the bed. That tongue was _cold_.

He looked down at where she sliced apart his armor again, pursing his lips. “What...what is your other half?” He asked, finally reaching up a hand to grip her wrist. To his surprise, she let him take it, and lifted her hand when he tugged to get a better look at the laser-claws she sported. “I've never seen a Galra like you.”

Ezor hummed, flexing and then retracting the brilliant dots of light at the tips of her fingers. “My father's people mostly manifest on this plane of existence as balls of multi-colored light,” she told him, pushing the shredded remains of his armor away with her free hand, “they don't have a name. It took me most of my developmental phases to figure out how to manifest a body of any kind.” She grinned, tracing the indentations around his muscles with a cool finger. “Mouths are hard,” she admitted, then leaned down to lick a mostly-healed scar over his ribs, “I couldn't figure out how many I was supposed to have, so I went with four. No one said anything until Acxa told me that's too many.”

He shuddered at the lick—the tongue in her face was warm, and left his skin tingling in its wake—and mentally started reciting the proper procedure for an emergency water landing. “Wh-what are you doing?” He pushed at the wrist he held, but this time she didn't budge

She gave him another grin, turning her arm to reverse the grip and easily forcing his arm up above his head. “If my murderous traitor-husband is going to make a spouse of you,” she informed him in an overly-sweet tone, “then I'm at least going to try you out first. It seems fair, don't you think, since he doesn't seem interested in observing the traditions and asking our opinion.” She used the teeth of her second mouth to undo the fastenings on her own uniform, managing to get it off of her top half without tearing it.

“I-I don't think he actually--” Shiro had a hard time looking away from the way her skin shimmered, like oil on water, but he felt his mouth pulling into an involuntary smile when he followed the whorls of color up to her breasts. “...I'm sorry, are your nipples glowing?”

“Ugh, rude,” she bent over him again, and he was suddenly acutely aware that she was straddling his hips, “I just told you I'm half light-person.” She trailed a hand down his metal arm, and he turned his palm to let her pin that above his head, too. Her face hovered above his for a moment, and her gaze flicked over his features in hesitation before she kissed him.

She tasted like grapefruit and cinnamon, and her tongue was hot enough to feel like it might burn but not enough to actually hurt. It slid against his easily, as though they'd kissed a thousand times before, and he couldn't help the small sound he made into her mouth when she shifted flatter against him. He felt her nipples brush his chest, heard the tiny squeak of alarm when one found the cold metal of his dog tags, and couldn't help but laugh a little. He was still laughing when she pulled back to pout at him. “If you're going to insist on keeping me pinned, this isn't going to be nearly as entertaining for you as you'd like,” he grinned up at her when she pouted down at him thoughtfully, “I promise I won't try to get away. Like you said, I'm shameless.”

He sat up slightly when she released him, bringing his hands to her ribs and sliding them upwards. He enjoyed the warmth—he could almost feel it swirling, like the shimmers his eyes could barely catch—on his palm as he cupped one breast and rubbed his thumb over the faintly glowing nipple. In deference to the metal nature of his other arm, he kept his prosthetic hand on her ribs, and leaned up to kiss her again.

She was more enthusiastic this time, tongue curling against his as they came together, small sounds slipping out between them as she shifted in his lap and pressed into his hand. He felt something cold and slick on the back of his neck and tensed, remembering the several rows of glass-shard teeth in the mouth on her head-tail. She pulled back from the kiss with a laugh, burying her fingers in his hair. He sighed and leaned forward, nuzzling his face up under one small, pointed ear and giving the lobe a nip. “I don't suppose it was a situation similar to this that Acxa told you four was too many mouths?” He asked, startled by how rough his own voice had become.

“Mm, similar,” she agreed breathily, “but I am allowed to use two.” She rolled her hips down into him, giggling in delight when he tightened the arm around her ribs and ground back up in response. She leaned back slightly, giving him a grin. “Unless you're okay with all four.”

“I think I'm going to have a hard enough time with two,” he admitted after a long moment of intrigued thought. “Maybe next time.” He nibbled at her lower lip when it protruded in a pout, then returned to kissing and licking his way down the side of her long neck. Her laugh gave him pause, but she arced her back in a wordless demand he knew, and he slid his mouth down further to brush his lips against the nipple of the breast he wasn't cupping. He felt the teeth from her second mouth brush his neck and lifted his mouth enough to say, “you know, I don't need that,” before she arced her back again and he quieted with a muffled laugh.

“No,” she acknowledged, dropping her head to breathe heavily into his hair, “but you _like_ it.” She licked over the ridge of scars on the back of his neck with a breathy giggle, enjoying the way he shivered and rocked his hips up into her again. “Shameless~” she sang out, shuddering when his prosthetic arm slid down the curve of her back to tuck under the gathered uniform at her waist. She wriggled, balancing first on one knee and then the other to get the jumpsuit off the rest of the way without giving up her position atop Shiro's lap.

He didn't hesitate to press a deliberately-chill metal hand over the curve of her ass, and laughed when she lightly swatted at his shoulders, sliding his warm, calloused palm around to the back of her ribs. He pulled his head back and tipped it, and when she nodded, he flipped them, careful to lower her slowly enough so that she could move her head-tail out of the way. He moved his mouth to her other breast, letting his hands explore what he couldn't yet see.

She yelped and smacked him hard enough to make his ears ring when he touched a prosthetic finger between her legs. “That's _cold_!”

Shaking his head to clear the sparks from his eyes—and glad he hadn't bitten her when she'd hit him—Shiro blinked several times. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “wrong hand?” He was still blinking when she cupped his chin and raised his face to nuzzle it. When his ears cleared, he realized she was scolding him.

“-stupid delicate human, don't you dare let one freaking slap be what kills you, I have plans for you and this is not entirely it--”

“I'm okay,” he reassured, turning his head to catch her mouth with his and enjoy another long, cinnamon-citrus kiss, “I promise I have no intentions of dying just yet.” He settled his warm hand on her hip, letting his fingers follow the crease down to the heat below. He couldn't ignore the feeling of almost-burning, the slick moisture that quickly worked its way between his fingers as he traced them lightly over the top of her parted folds, or the way she squirmed and pushed at his pants with her heels when he did so. He undid the hidden clasp with his prosthetic hand, letting her push the fabric out of the way and only adjusting himself when it caught on his erection. He let out a sharp hiss. “Okay you're right that hand is cold,” he admitted through gritted teeth, to the sound of her laughter.

She quieted only a little when he retaliated by slipping his thumb between her labia and rubbing it against her clit. Her fingers tugged on his hair, and he felt the brief brush of teeth against the scars on his neck again. “He's going to notice you've been gone a while, soon,” she panted, squirming down against his fingers and growling when he would only stroke her with them.

“He can't go looking for me at his own Coronation,” was the unhurried response. “I don't suppose you have--” he closed his eyes when she threw a handful of condoms from the side table at his face. “Okay, some of those are way too big for me, did you mess up his--” he hissed when she nipped at the scars on the back of his neck again.

“I tipped the boxes over,” she told him smugly, “he's gonna have to reorganize the whole drawer.” She yelped when he pushed a finger into her abruptly, then let out a soft, keening whine.

“You know damn good and well he's going to make Nolan do that.” He found one of the circular packages marked in the correct size, popping the condom out with his thumb and pulling his fingers from her to roll it on with his flesh-and-blood hand. He gave her a pointed look as she squirmed back towards him and huffed.

“Fine, fine, I'll fix it before I leave,” She started to roll her eyes at him, only to have them cross and roll upwards when he leaned forward to press himself into her. The mouth on the back of his neck tightened for a moment before sliding away entirely, and Shiro spent a moment relieved that Ezor's glass-shard teeth wouldn't be adding to his scar collection there. She hooked her legs over his hips and pulled him closer, tipping up her chin to kiss him again.

If he hadn't already felt her internal temperature with his hand he would have been convinced she was burning him. When he closed his eyes into the kiss he could still see the swirl of light under her skin behind his eyelids. Her nails scraped at his shoulders, but not enough to hurt, so he threw himself into the thrust and drag, the way she dropped her head back and—presumably--swore at him in a warped stutter of light when he moved just right, the way her eyes glowed brighter when he reached down with his non-prosthetic to work his fingers between them. Her thin moans and high gasps fell against his mouth, then the side of his neck, and finally into his shoulder as they sped closer; he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, coating his face in her scent as she clenched around him with a muffled screech, pulling a ground-down groan from his throat as he came.

It took him almost half a minute to register that the white covering his vision was only momentarily from orgasm, and thought to turn his face away as Ezor shook and shuddered—and blazed—beneath him. When she went still, he carefully turned them onto their sides and held her against him, letting out a small sigh at the feeling of tears slipping onto his shoulder.

Four sobs in, she started hitting him again. Post-orgasm shaky muscles or not, she managed to put a great deal of force behind the blows, and it stung. He caught her wrists with his prosthetic hand, and she only gave him a couple of seconds of half-hearted stuggle before settling again. He pressed a kiss to her head. “I'm so sorry about your wife,” he told her quietly.

She slid from his grip with an ease that made him wonder if she'd briefly abandoned physical form to do it, pulling on her jumpsuit with a scowl. “You should be sorry about what Lotor's going to do to you when he smells all this,” she snapped, “because I don't feel like slitting your throat anymore.”

She must have kicked the door after it slid closed, because hydraulic sliders couldn't be slammed. Shiro laid back on the mattress and felt himself start to laugh hysterically.

 


End file.
